Maybe They'll Remember me Now
by CrazyMetalhead
Summary: Canada has always been the invisible nation. That is, until he decides he's had enough. Snapped!Canada


Maybe they'll remember me now

**Warnings: Human names occasionally used, a surprising lack of swear words, Depressed Canada, self-harm, and lots of blood**

Canada had always been the invisible country. The ghost just floating around. The one nobody recognized. The one nobody bothered to remember. Even America, his own brother, barely remembered he existed. He often wondered if the rest of the world would notice if he died. Though it was unknown to the rest of the nations, he had attempted to test that theory many times. No matter how much he wanted to do it though, he could never go through with it. He tried to be noticed. He tried to scream. He tried to fight. He had even tried to kill. It was never noticed though. Finally, Canada had enough. He couldn't stand one more day of being confused with his brother, being ignored, being the country nobody cared about.

The countries sat around a large table attempting to solve the world's problems in a matter of hours. As usual, France and England were at each other's throats, Germany was about to have an aneurysm, America was going on about being the hero, Greece was napping, etc., etc. Basically, they were doing anything but solving their problems. Finally, Canada had had enough. Every time, they ended up like this: bickering and creating more problems rather than solving the ones at hand.

"Guys, aren't we supposed to be solving our problems, not creating them?" Canada asked in his strongest voice though even that was just above a whisper.

"Huh America, I didn't know you cared so much about moving these meetings along." Russia mused, momentarily turning his attention away from a rather terrified looking Lithuania.

"I'm not America. I'm Canada." Matthew sighed, giving Kumajiro a quick squeeze.

"Oh," Russia said before turning back to torment Lithuania a little more.

"I'm Canada," the invisible nation whispered, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. He didn't know why he fought them. It wasn't like anyone was going to notice he was crying. "Why doesn't anyone ever recognize me?" Canada stood and quietly walked out of the room, not that anyone noticed.

Canada sat locked in his room staring down at his wrist, the new cuts still bleeding a little. They were just one of the many scars covering his forearm, most of which had already healed over. He had started cutting himself about a few months ago, again, not that anyone noticed. He didn't really know why he did it anymore. In the beginning, cutting was the one thing that Matthew believed kept him from completely slipping away. It was his one way to get through the pain. Now it was more of a hobby than it was a release. It didn't feel good like it used to. Now he just needed to feel the blade against his skin. He was afraid if he didn't, he would lose himself completely. He was jerked out of his thoughts when someone knocked on his bedroom door.

"It's me, America." The loud nation said even though no one asked. Canada quickly slid the knife into a drawer and pulled down his sleeves before unlocking the door.

"Hi America," Canada put on a smile; a little surprised America even knew he was in his room.

"Hey, I noticed you left the meeting early. Is everything okay?" America asked, not knowing what that simple question did to his brother.

"I just wasn't feeling well. I needed to rest for a while." Canada lied, hoping America wouldn't see through him.

"You sure? You look depressed or something." America pushed the issue, just making his little brother feel worse.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I got to lie down for a while so I feel better." _i Will he just go away? /i _

"Alright dude but if something is up, I'm here for you, kay?" America smiled down at his brother.

"Okay," Canada returned the smile. _i you can leave now. Please leave me alone. /i _America kissed Canada on his forehead and patted his head before turning around to leave Canada by himself. Matthew had a sudden urge to punch his brother. He wanted to scream at him that it was his fault, that it was everyone's fault. He wanted to tell him he was tired of being ignored or confused with someone else. He wanted to scream at him for being a horrible brother. Well over half of the time America ignored him along with the rest of the world but Canada leaves one meeting early and suddenly America is "brother of the year." He wanted to scream to anyone that he was tired of being the one no one cared about. At least, that was before. Even if he hated Alfred for it, he was genuinely concerned for Canada when he left the meeting early. For all he knew, the others noticed as well. Heck, for all he knew, he may have caused a panic. People did care about him and somehow, that made him furious. His whole life he was ignored and now people noticed him. Took them long enough!

"Hey, you sure you're okay? You were spacing out." Canada blinked as a hand was waved in front of his face.

"Yeah, I'm just still a little tired." Canada faked another smile, attempting to make his brother really go away.

"Alright, get some more rest. See you later I guess, Canadia." America smiled and walked down the stairs, most likely to get some food. Canada shut the door and leaned his head against it, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

"It's Canada." It was at that moment that something in Canada's mind sprouted. Perhaps it was hatred. Perhaps it was melancholy. Perhaps it was a strange mixture of every feeling in the world, known to some as insanity. Whatever it was, it claimed Canada then, planting its evil seed in his mind, taking control of his body. He didn't even bother to try to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. They were no longer tears of sadness though. No, these were tears of rage, blurring Canada's vision until he was nearly blinded from them. He lashed out at the door with his feet, kicking it until he was sure he had broken a toe. He began grabbing items off of shelves and throwing them across the room, not caring if they broke or not. He tore at his hair, ignoring the pain as he ripped out chunks of the golden locks. He ran to his bed and tore of the sheets, throwing them to the floor in a messy pile. He grabbed a pillow, buried his face in it, and screamed. Finally, he reached into his drawer and pulled out the knife. He pulled up his sleeve, admiring the scars for a second before pressing the knife to his skin. He barley pressed the knife down before he ripped it away from his wrist, refusing to do it again.

"NO!" He screamed, throwing the knife across the room. He sat with his head buried in his hands, panting. After a minute or so, he forced himself to look up to see where the knife had landed after he threw it. It stuck out of the wall opposite of him, directly in the middle of the Canadian flag he had hung there. He began to laugh, beginning at a mere chuckle and ending with nearly a scream. Once he had finished his laughing fit, he looked back at the flag with the knife in the middle of it.

"I'm Canada," the invisible nation began to laugh…and laugh…and laugh…

Canada stood in his garage, shooting pucks into his street hockey net, his mind only half focused on the task. He was still excited about what he had done earlier. Just thinking about it gave him chills. He could only imagine what could happen if he did that to another person. Rather than scaring him as it should've, the thought excited him. It almost seemed as if he was aching to try it. He shot one more puck, getting it in the top shelf, when he heard footsteps from behind him.

"America, can I talk to you?" England asked from where the garage stood open.

"I'm not America. I'm Canada." Matthew chuckled, walking over to the button that controlled the garage door.

"Oh, sorry Canada, I didn't recognize you." England quickly apologized, beginning to feel as if he should run. He had no idea where the feeling came from. After all, it was just Canada.

"It's okay, no one ever does." Canada turned to face England, closing the garage door in the process.

"C-Canada, what are you doing?" England stuttered, growing more afraid with every passing second. There was something in the nation's eyes that terrified him.

"Have you ever been ignored no matter how hard you try to be noticed?" Canada asked, holding the hockey stick in front of him so the blade was facing up. He began to run his hand up the stick, apparently fascinated by it.

"Canada, what are you-"

"You know, for as long as I can remember I've always been ignored or mistaken for someone else. You don't know what that feels like though, do you?" the garage finally closed, covering the room in a darkness with just enough dim light to see shapes moving in it. England heard footsteps coming toward him as well as wood dragging on concrete.

"C-Canada, stop this. I don't know what you're getting at but-"

"How would you like to know how I feel? Unrecognized by everyone, would you like that?" Canada's voice seemed to echo in the cluttered space though all logic denied it.

"Canada please-"

"Times up. I guess I'll have to show you whether you like it or not." England felt a sharp pain in his head accompanied by a sickening crunch. After that, all was black. A few minutes later Canada stood above England's corpse, panting, his hockey stick and body covered in blood.

"Who are you? Sorry, I can't recognize you anymore." Canada chuckled, smiling sweetly down at the corpse.

Hey bro, everything okay in here? I thought I heard something." America opened the door leading to the garage, flooding the room with light. His breath caught at the scene before him. He couldn't move, speak, breathe, or even think. For a second, everything in his life had frozen. Finally, he regained his ability to function properly and ran to where England lay; barely noticing Canada was in the room.

"Iggy! Iggy, come on, wake up! Iggy!" America shouted, shaking England's shoulders. "Come on Iggy, you can't be dead! You can't! England, please wake up. Come on, please!" after another minute of hopeless begging, America accepted the fact he hoped he wouldn't have to face. Alfred began to cry, cradling the man who raised him to his chest.

"Huh, looks like I didn't do a good enough job. You could still recognize him." Canada observed from behind America, looking down at the two.

"You! Why did you do this?" America screamed, whipping around to face Canada. "How could you."

"Maybe if the rest of the world remembered who I was, I wouldn't have had to do this." Canada shrugged as if killing a person was a casual thing.

"Canada, you didn't have to do this!" America sobbed.

"Oh, so _inow/i_ you remember my name!" Canada raised his hockey stick again, glaring down at his brother. America let go of England and dove out of the way, cringing as he heard one of England's bones crack as the blade of the stick slammed down on it.

"Sorry Iggy," America murmured before scrambling to his feet and rushing into his house, slamming the door shut behind him. Moments later he heard the door open and close again, announcing Canada's entry. America mentally cursed himself for not locking the door. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed a steak knife, hoping he wouldn't actually have to use it. Almost as soon as the knife was in his hand Canada appeared in the kitchen, a look of absolute rage on his face.

"Running from me? First you don't remember my name, now you're too scared to face your own brother?"

"G-Go away. I will use this if I have to!" America frantically waved the knife in front of him. Canada chuckled and walked toward America, catching him a little off guard.

"Now, would you really hurt little Mattie? What kind of a big brother are you?" Canada teased, getting closer to America with every word. Suddenly America was shoved into the counter causing both the person and the knife to drop to the floor. Laughing, Canada picked up the knife and straddled America, grinning madly at the look of shock on his brother's face.

"You know, I've gotten pretty good with knives. I know exactly what works and what doesn't." To emphasize his point, Canada pulled down his sleeve to show America the scars covering his forearm.

"Oh God Mattie, I'm so sorry." America said, staring at Canada's wrist. He suddenly felt his cheek sting as Canada slapped him before going into a laughing fit.

"If you were really sorry, you would've noticed." Canada said between laughs before regaining his 'composure.'

"Well, if it's not obvious, I have some experience. If you're steady about it, the whole thing can be practically painless. It'll be done before you know it." Canada slid the knife across his wrist, leaving a thin bleeding cut behind. "Or you can always do it the hard way. You can be shaky and jumpy but that takes longer and hurts more." At this, Canada shook his arm, leaving a much deeper and crooked cut. "Now, do you want the easy way or the hard way?"

"I'm sorry, Mattie." America whispered, turning his face away from his brother.

"Looks like it's gonna be the hard way."

Canada shut the door leading to the garage, grinning in spite of himself. In there were two dead bodies and no one would ever notice. Even if they did, they would never guess it was innocent little Canada who did it. 'He doesn't have it in him,' they would say. Meanwhile Canada would stand in the background, chuckling to himself. Canada looked around, thinking of everyone who had ever forgotten him, his name, or confused him with someone else. France all but ignored him as a child while Canada was growing up even though he was supposed to be taking care of the young nation. Russia had completely ignored his existence, unknowingly sitting on him a few times. Maple, even that bear Canada could never quite remember the name of had no idea who he was. Practically everyone was worthy of his hatred. There were only a few nations that actually noticed him and even they had done something at some point to earn Canada's hate. Matthew smirked as he walked out of the house. He had already managed to kill America and England without anyone noticing. Why couldn't he do it a few more times?

Already Canada had killed over a dozen nations, getting barely a second glance for it. At the moment he was at France's house, holding the nation that had 'raised' him at gunpoint.

"Come on Canada, you wouldn't actually do this! I raised you. I'm your big brother!" France pleaded, doing everything to spare his life.

"My big brother, really? If you're my big brother, where were you when I was growing up?" Canada shouted, tightening his grip on the gun. "You spent all your time with England and America. You barely noticed I existed!"

"I did know! I did care about you. I was just fighting with England and-"

"And not caring you had someone you needed to take care of. Well guess what, now you don't have to worry about taking care of anyone ever again." Canada pulled the trigger, laughing as France's body fell to the ground. "Now, who's next?"

Prussia burst into his brother's room, freezing at what he saw. Germany was slumped against a wall and Italy, who had been visiting Germany, lay on the ground next to the blonde. Both were covered in their own blood, bullet wounds clearly visible on their bodies. What was more shocking was the murderer standing with his back to the door, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. Canada turned around after a minute, allowing the ex-nation to see the crazed look in his eyes.

"If you wanna live you better start running." Canada advised, grinning wickedly at Prussia. Gilbert immediately followed Canada's advice and ran down the hallway, chased by Canada's laugh. The crimson eyed man turned into the bathroom, locking the door, praying Canada wouldn't find him. His prayers weren't answered. Mere moments after he locked himself in the small room he heard footsteps stop in front of the door. He heard the doorknob jiggle. He heard the kick to the door. He heard the gunshot. Slowly the door swung open allowing an enraged Canada to walk into the small space. Prussia backed himself up as far as possible, pressing his back to the far wall. Grinning, Canada wasted no time in pointing the gun at Prussia's head. Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable. Instead of the sound of gunfire though, all that was heard was a small click.

"What the maple?" Canada's grin fell at the click. He tried pulling the trigger again. Nothing. Slowly Prussia opened his eyes, not really wanting to see the state Canada was in.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" Canada screamed, throwing the gun to the ground.

"What can I say?" I'm too awesome to get shot." Prussia grinned, his usual cocky attitude coming back. Canada growled at him, his face full of rage. Before the former nation knew what had happened, Canada lunged at Prussia, grabbing his throat and strangling him. Prussia somehow managed to break out of Canada's grasp but fell backwards into the small bathtub in the process. Canada climbed onto Prussia and grabbed his throat again, this time a little stronger. Prussia struggled, desperately trying to pry Canada's hands off his throat. William began to feel fed up and shook his arms, bashing Prussia's head on the edge of the tub with each shake. Canada grinned as blood began to flow from the ex-nation's head. Not too long after, Prussia's body went limp. Canada let go of Prussia's neck and sat up. The invisible nation began to laugh. He had completed his task. Anyone who had ignored him, forgotten him, or mixed him up with someone else was dead.

"Who knows, maybe they'll remember me now."

**AN: **My first snapped!Canada story. Hope you like it :3 By the way, there is a reason Canada never swears in this. In my mind, Canada has no idea _how _to swear and so he never does. Don't ask how I came up with that. I don't know.


End file.
